


Crash My Party

by ackermansheart



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eremika - Freeform, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermansheart/pseuds/ackermansheart
Summary: [...] and when he’s got her hands now and he’s dragging her towards his bedroom he wonders just how many times he’s sworn off her touch only to inevitably fall back to that very same place.What happens when Mikasa and Eren crash each others parties, again and again?





	Crash My Party

**Author's Note:**

> Eren, Mikasa, and the friends with benefits plot bunny. How much more cliche can we get? Read more to find out.  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> [I'd like to throw all my thanks to all my friends who let me continuously bug them with the little bits (and a lot of times large chunks) of this shot. Your patience is something I'll never be grateful enough for and you're da bomb for letting me annoy you with my constant messages and thoughts! Love ya bunches, you my hoes.] 
> 
> [Shout out to my lovelies Jaz, Selena and Beni for being so supportive always and being overall the best gal pals]

* * *

  
They’re at a bar right now— not really at his taste but Eren does whatever he can to stay in the loop with his friends at this point. Med school takes a toll on just about every aspect of his life and he barely has time to even sleep— let alone have enough free time to go out and party or be with... _anyone_ , really. But it’s his birthday weekend and, ironically, spring break for University, so of course he was going to be forced out of his apartment.

And he wasn’t going to go out; he really wasn’t going to. But he couldn’t say no to Mikasa. At the time it hadn’t crossed his mind but he hadn’t realized that he never really could say no to her. Even when, against her normal stoic sort of persona she had normally played, she came to him with beaming eyes and _God— he really could never._ He fucks it up sometimes, he really does but he wishes he could figure out how to make her come out like that more often.

That’s why they’re here now, though, with a crowd of drunk people swarming a sully bar with music that’s not good enough to be as loud as it is. Eren fights any eye roll he feels coming on and plasters his lips together any time he feels Mikasa bump her elbow into his sides. When she does it again, his eyes find hers despite the lack of lighting and smoke smoldering her lashes and even then he can see the plea in the crinkle of them.

“You’re having fun right?” she asks, and it’s so light that he barely hears her over the music. But his eyes watch her lips and when they pull back into a hopeful sort of smile, his jaw twitches. He hadn’t even thought about if he was having any fun or not, they’d just been sipping on drinks and hanging around their friends who have since moved to the dance floor. He was just… _there_.

But his lips pull a tight smile and he nods, “Yeah.” Unconvincing, but he tries again because he really does want to have some fun tonight. He doesn’t remember the last time he wasn’t stressed to the max and he only releases a breath when he feels a cool hand resting against his arm suddenly. And when his eyes find their way back to Mikasa’s again he sees her watching him with an etching study.

“You wanna go grab another drink?” He tries to defer her— he doesn’t like when she tries to read his mind like that. She does it far too often when she doesn’t need to; she could be worrying about so many other things other than how he’s doing.

Mikasa nods her response but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes yet, and he almost laughs to himself then because although it might be his birthday all he has the urge to do is make sure that she has a good time. He doesn't get to see her often enough and when he does he tries to make sure she actually _does_ have fun. So he grabs for her hand and pulls her from her seat at the bar, sliding his fingers between her own as he helps her move and weave through the crowds.

After they’ve settled back at their table from earlier and finished their drinks, Eren plays his finger along the edge of his glass, his eyes following the circles he makes until they’re caught by some steely slates sitting across from him. They hold his gaze and he sits up a little straighter, noticing the way Mikasa’s eyes droop slightly— but just slightly to the point that tell him that she’s only a little sloshed.

He holds his hand out, then, knowing she’d have the courage to follow and fold her hand into his own to be lead out onto the dance floor. Their other friends are somewhere around there but they’ve been swallowed by the crowd. Him and Mikasa were both a little late to the party but he’s already gotten all the _happy birthday’s_ and back slaps he could ask for from everyone else. All he wants now is to dance with Mikasa.

Eren pursues a chance when he sees one, and when he sees one so perfect such as tonight, he can’t help but tug at his lips at the initial thought. It’s been a while, and it was a long shot, but he hopes and prays that he’s right. He’s not too far off because her eyes glint back that same want and that same longing that makes him miss her like this when she’s not around. It’s a weird feeling, one that he normally just pushes aside when he doesn’t have time to think about it— but he does think about it.

Eren just prefers different methods of distraction, which is why when they stop amidst the buzzing crowd and his hand slides out from her own, both of his find their way to her hips that he pulls safely into his own. It’s a thrill he seeks out as often as he can and he’s greedy with the times that he does get because he doesn’t get them often— not anymore; at least not like this. It’s fair to assume all their friends already know they have something going on, but they don’t know to the extent that their relationship goes— if he can even call it that. They’d allow each other into their beds at night only to disappear in the morning— to pretend it never happened except when they were alone enough to admit it.

And Eren would never admit it. At least, he doesn’t think so. And if he were being crass, he really doesn’t care. They’ve been friends since they were kids and they grew up together; they were best friends. It’s not something he’s really ever thought about because it all just _happened_. And it kept happening— for years. Maybe he’s a little guilty of it, for letting it go on as long as it has. But how could he deny her what she wants from him when he’s wanted that very same thing, just like they both have since it started between them at 16. It was a bad idea then and it’s a bad idea now, just like it has been every single time they decide to let that one wall fall from between them— a wall they never even knew existed before the first time.

And Eren always knew when that wall was crumbling because when he looks down into her eyes now they’re finally filled with light again, a light that only comes around so often when he’s touching her.

_Can she feel it too?_

_That wall falling down again?_

“Dance with me?” He’s not surprised when he nods before thinking, his eyes transfixed on the way her lips curve at the question just enough for him to know she’s already accepted the fate of their situation as well. _Perfectly calculated_ , he thinks, to know now that this is what she had wanted all along. She planned their outing and begged him to come along knowing full well that she would be getting her way that night if he did. And Eren only curses himself because he swears she knows him better than he even knows himself.

He’s mad because she knew he wouldn’t be able to say no to her.

That feeling, of course, dissipates after a moment, after she’s already spun around in his arms and pressed her backside against his chest. After she’s grabbed his own hands and placed them on her hips herself. He knows then that she’s not given him much of a choice because she’s moving to the music without hesitation, her hips circling that insatiable desire bubbling in his chest. His heart thuds, his head aches but her her top slips a tiny bit beneath his fingertips against her hip that he suddenly doesn’t care about anything else in the moment except the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

Considering the last time they really went out dancing like this was when they were both still in college at parties that he’s sure neither of them ever remembered, he does remember how to move with her— he’ll always know how to move with her. It was too easy and he knew her body far too well to let themselves falter. He digs his fingers into her hips and holds her just a bit tighter as she literally just grinds her ass into him on yet another night they’ll probably never talk about.

She’s already decided to sneak a hand around the back of his neck, into his hair and grab on. His head falls down just enough for his nose to graze the top of her head, her hair tickling his cheeks as she moves. He can smell her, so much so that it sends a tingle from his spine to his balls that makes them tighten in a way that makes him shift slightly on his feet. She’s intoxicating and he hates that he can’t reach down, up and into her dress and make her feel what he knows that she wants to. He knows if she keeps moving the way that she is against him that it won’t be long until he gets what he wants, too.

And when he can’t take it anymore, when it’s simply not enough to have her clothed body writhing against him then, he almost stills her completely with a firm grip of her hips. He’s gasping, throaty— deep sort of breaths now that he can resonating feel deep within his chest. Raven locks swish against his throat when he leans down some more, his voice a raspy whisper as he tells her:

“ _Mmm, Mika— I need you.”_

She swivels in his arms then, dark grey’s clashing and for a moment he feels himself falter. Thick fingers dig into the small of her back as he tries to steady her. She’s nodding in understanding and her eyes glint his very own thoughts. “Now?” Her fingertips trace his lips while a thumb lingers and he sighs his answer against it.

“Now.” Eren nods, and in and instant he's taking her hand and leading her towards the front of the club. His ears thrum the steady thuds of the music as it rings in an echo off the walls. It’s crowded at the bar— too crowded and even with laced fingertips they struggle to hold on while they sift through the mass.

Eren grunts when they finally make it to the door and he pulls Mikasa out and into the balmy, sticky air. It hits his cheeks like warm breath and his eyes search for her in the fray, his gaze flicking up her body quickly before landing back upon her own still filled with that same want as before. They’ve not gotten time like this is so long that he’s almost embarrassingly giddy with excitement; his stomach swoops but there’s a moment however where he thinks about stopping, but the way her eyes are darkened more than the skies above them shows that he’s gotten the answer he’s been hoping for.

“Come on.” He’s quick as he falters in his step slightly as he leads her down the walk, and he can feel the hairs from his bun coming loose as they practically run along the bustling streets to his car. Eren slows them down and grips her hips just a bit tighter as he guides Mikasa more smoothly to his car and into the passenger seat, making sure not to miss grazing that little spot on her thigh that he knows makes her shudder as he buckles her in.

Eren feels a hand snake down his own thigh when he settles into his seat and begins to drive, but he pushes her hand away so that he can slide his own up her legs and into her skirt. Her legs part for him without question and she doesn’t argue against breathy moans when his thick fingers find her center. She obliges, knowing it was coming and it sends a bolt of heat flowing straight to his cock at the sight of her tongue darting out to wet her lips. It was clear to him at that point that his body had far overcome his own mind, and it was very hard to focus on the drive. But, when they finally make it back to his apartment still littered with her in so many ways, he doesn’t hesitate; he grabs her from the car, all wobbly legged and lusted eyes and her lips part just for him in that way that beckons him closer when they finally make it inside. And even though it’s dark he’s navigated this same route again and again with these same lithe fingers twisting into the hairs at his neck.

And when he’s got her hands now and he’s dragging her towards his bedroom he wonders just how many times he’s sworn off her touch only to inevitably fall back to that very same place.

They stumble through the hall with no lights to guide them, but they don’t need it— they’ve never needed it. They’ve done this dance a thousand times moreover, and despite the nagging in his belly and the urgency in his touch that only appears when he’s with _her_ , he allows himself to be dragged through the doorway.

 _“Mmm—”_ and suddenly she’s moving him, _pushing_ him— hands ghostly but aggressive as they shove him atop the bed and his breath catches at the sight of her swiftly climbing atop him. He groans through gritted teeth as knees fall to either side of his waist, the breadth of her hips curved beneath exploratory fingertips when, without even thinking, his hands find their way up the slope of her body. “— _kasa_.” She sucks out a desperate sort of whine from his lips that only she can seem to elicit. It’s frantic— almost begging as her fingers dig into his shoulders, thumbs brushing beneath each collarbone that match the motions of her hips when she begins to move above him.

He gets lost in her; he gets lost in the skin that’s bathed against the pale moonlight. It drips through closed curtains— it was a sordid dusky sort of light that shadows half her face. She was always so beautiful like this— _so soft—_ even in their most frantic or lucid sort of moments they found themselves in. Even when she’s pushing his shirt from his chest and writhing his pants away— she doesn’t even fully remove her skirt before she’s sinking onto his cock. It drawls that delicious sound from her lips again and he’s laid helpless while delicate fingertips dance and dig into his chest with each swivel of her hips.

When he’s able to open his eyes back he can’t help but swallow thickly at the way she looks riding him. Her hair falls long over her shoulders as she moves, her breasts bouncing as she frees them from the rest of her clothing in earnest. Her fingers work fast at the clasps of her bra and she only falters a second atop him before she tosses it to his floor with a grunt. With a satisfied smirk and determination etching her brow, she takes him in her hand and holds another on his chest while she straddles him once more. Eren bends his knees and aids in her thrusts and her head lolls back helplessly. He can feel her fingertips tremble as she presses further into his chest and he can’t help but wonder what’s gotten into her that night.

“Fuck — _fuck_ —“ and then he’s reaching a hand up, fingers splaying behind raven tresses and he tugs to pull her closer. When she obliges, falling bare against his chest, he uses her to shift their weight until she’s rolled beneath him and onto her belly. He decides to yank her skirt the rest of the way off in the process.

A soft squeal of surprise reaches his ears when he flips her and coaxes her onto all fours, Mikasa’s face grazing the tousled sheets as he grabs her; fleshy fingertips dig into her hips as he yanks them up to meet his own. One of his hands reaches down and grasps at the hair brushing her back as he adjusts to the new angle while the other smoothes circles against her hip. “Fuck, Mikasa,” he grunts, hands smacking firm against the cheeks of her ass before he’s slipping back inside from behind. He’s slow, savoring the feeling of her body reacting and he can feel her tighten— then resist— her body rocking back against him as he slams into her, the thwack of skin meeting skin and his grunts filling the air.

As his hands wander down the slopes of her hips his mind wanders somewhere else. The _‘what if’s’_ hitting at all the wrong moments. Questionable doubts about the way she would feel about this when it was all over again floods his mind and almost makes him falter. But he doesn’t; he only feels that guilt travel through his belly and into the way he fucks her.

“ _Harder_ ,” she begs. “God, _please_ , harder.”

Mikasa’s head turns slightly, then, pastel cheeks brushing up against his own and he watches her lips curl and fall in a way that can’t help but mimic. Her touches are light when she grabs for his hands but he pulls away, snaking one of them between her thighs as he leans over and she mewls a soft inviting kind of sound that grew with each stroke he would make. His own visage begins to crumble at the sight and feeling but he can only smile when he feels her knees begin to buckle beneath them. _She was close._

_“Mmm—”_

She’s soft. Everything about her — her skin, her hair as he pulls it a little bit more with each thrust. It was the only time he really got the time to admire everything that she was— soaked in the moonlight that filters in through softening curtains she appeared almost godly.

But that was Mikasa.

It was the way she looked in his sheets; it was the way that she called his name.

Maybe it was the way that no matter what— it was her. Out of everyone it was her. Countless nights entangled with other women only to always come back to her. And now he has her naked, sprawled out in his bed and covered in him with his name falling from her mouth. It comes out in strained pants with trembling fingertips struggle to hold onto the sheets below.

“Come on—“ he whispers, voice deep and knowing and needing for her to make it. “ _Come on_.”

She’s so warm. So— so incredibly warm and by default his lips end up dragging along her the hollow of her throat as he leans over her. He gets as close as he can, leeching every bit of her as she arches against him to meet each thrust. She’s cursing then, fumbling with _how close she is_ when her own reddened knuckles slide to grasp at his caught grasping at the sheets. She was on a precipice that he so badly wanted to follow.

“ _Oh my… god_ , Eren—“

Hearing her strain his name like that becomes the peak of any shred of self control he may have had left. He was slipping, his own knees weakening at the power she held over him in these kinds moments. He’ll never come to understand how he came to have her this way. Only God knows he doesn’t deserve it.

But it’s in these moments that he allows his hands to roam freely, gentle— soft— careful not to let this image of her in his bed sully his thoughts. He always has to fight off that sick feeling when he thinks too much about it.

How much he knows she deserves better than this. Better than _him._

But they can’t help it—they’ve never been able to help it. It’s inevitable—a cursed kind of tango that they can’t stop dancing. He’s drank her in far too many times for there to be any barriers left between them.

Any barriers that were physical, at least.

Eren’s lost track with how long they’ve been hiding behind walls like this, the two of them knowing each others bodies like the backs of their own hands and yet still struggling to read each other’s minds.

When they think they’re close to breaking the dam, it always gets built back up. Years, and years and _years_ of being together like this hasn’t changed a thing for them. He’s still a coward and she still comes back blindly again and again as if they don’t both have personal baggage to claim.

And yet that still doesn’t stop them.

He still touches her, he still kisses her now— he still marks her as her own even if it were just for another night. Even with hesitant thought he can’t keep control when he’s got her like this. Her ass is up and her face is down and the only sounds he can hear in the moment is Mikasa’s breath falling hoarse against his sheets.

But he doesn’t want her to finish like before, not just yet. It was selfish, but he knew that once it was all over things would go back to exactly how they were. Mikasa would roll from his bed, stretch her arms up and through the sleeves of her shirt quietly and he’ll watch her pad through the dark as she slips on the rest. She’ll pretend not to see him watching her leave and she’ll look back, pause, and then slip out of his bedroom.

He’s never asked her why, or confronted her, or even remotely thought about bringing it up. He figured if it was something that she wanted to talk about, then she would talk about it. Mikasa wasn’t very complex when it came to letting people know how she felt. He figured it was better not to bother her about it. He still wondered, sometimes; he definitely still wondered.

But right now was not that time to wonder. No, right now he wanted to see her, he wanted to look at her, and he wanted to make her cum. So his fingers release from her hair and he slips out of her from behind and before she can whimper her protest from the loss of him, Eren rolls her over onto her back. Mikasa lands on her back with a thud, hair sprawled and pink cheeks begging for a breath to catch.

Eren always thought she looked the best like this, with sweat forming on her brow and her hair sticking to her cheeks from a blush he knows that he’s given her. It’s why he can’t resist leaning down and capturing her lips in a hearted kiss, one deeper and longer than any of the others they may have shared tonight. And he resists slipping back inside just yet at the off chance he won’t get her like this much longer. So just like always, he savors her tastes and the feeling of her tongue sliding against the backs of his teeth. He can feel the thudding of her chest against his own, her fingers wiring up to grasp at both of his cheeks as if to hold him there just a little longer. It’s a more tender gesture than usual, one that’s filled with more of a notion than he might understand.

Nevertheless, he savors it.

And he savors the bite of her lips, the scraping of her nails against the back of his neck as if it would hold him there longer. But when he pulls away, his nose bumping against her own in a quiet nudge of approval, her eyes look almost sad. He swears he must be seeing things, however, because once he blinks, the looks is gone, and in its place is her hands there again inevitably pulling him back down. And when he feels her hips buck back up against the feeling of his lips claiming her mouth, he a-quiches, grabs himself, and slides back inside.

Eren sighs against her lips and reaches down, grabbing one of her hands and holding it above her head with fingers tightly wrapped against her wrist as he thrusts deeper. She peers up at him, her eyes big but half-lidded, full of lust and something else he can’t really place as her throat bobs with each swallow of breath. His lips fall to it, licking there, suckling at the sensitive flesh that makes her arch into him that much more.

The sound of his name escaping her lips starts as an almost whisper, but with the repetitive rocks of his hips slamming into her own it manifests into a string of obscenities that makes him smile with knowing. She’s falling over the edge little by little and when he fucks her like this. With one hand holding the back of her head steady and the other rubbing tight circles on her clit he feels her walls begin to contract and clench him greedily. The prolonged moan of pleasure she emits almost spurs his own release and he tries to fight from coming yet, he really does. But with her knees locked around his waist and his his tongue hot on her throat he comes with an almost guttural moan into her neck, his hips jerking once, twice, three more times before he feels the last of his orgasm travel to the ending most tips of his body.

It takes him several moments before he finally lifts his head, allowing his heartbeat to slow back to normal before pulling out of her. When he does, where her hands once rested above her head now cling to his shoulders with trembling fingertips as she herself collects the air once stolen from her lungs. And the moments where they clear their throats he reaches up, not knowing what draws him to do so but he swipes the hair sticky with sweat across her forehead and out of her eyes. Her own chest heaves against his and her eyes don’t leave his own, but her tongue darts out to wet swollen lips with slowly batting lashes.

He thinks she’s going to say something with the way her eyes focus, and it’s not until then that he realizes that he’s very much still on top of her. So he lifts himself a bit, albeit a bit shaky on his elbows as he does so, and moves to lie down beside her to give her some space. Eren rolls over a second to check the clock on his night stand and sees it’s far passed 2am and sighs, running a hand through his hair that’s inevitably fallen from the bun that had been tied behind his head. It falls passed his shoulders now, dark, thick and it’s sweaty when he pushes it from his face. And, by the time he rolls back over, he’s half expecting Mikasa to be halfway out the door.

To his surprise, though, she hasn’t gotten up like she normally does; he never feels the bed dip with her weight. He waits the normal time it would take for him to pretend to be asleep… but she still doesn’t move. In fact, he thinks he lies there on his back staring at the ceiling for maybe half an hour before he notices the stillness still beside him. He figured that at least by now that Mikasa would be attempting her late night escape, but she isn’t. Instead, when he turns over, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, he sees that her chest rises and falls evenly. Her eyelids flutter and her lips are puckered and he almost has to force himself to look away.

For some reason, he can’t understand why looking at her in his bed like this, sleeping with no care in the world, makes him feel sick to his stomach. Maybe because he knows that when she wakes up in the morning and sees that she’s still here in his bed, she’s going to brick those walls right back up.

Mikasa never has been one to let herself be known to many, and he knows for a fact that nobody knows her in the way that he does. But at the same time, he feels like he doesn’t know her at all. Because by now she would have been gone and the only thing left in his bed would be her scent for however long it decided to linger in his sheets.

But she’s there, now, curled up and fast asleep.

It wasn’t as if it were anything new that she slept over with him much as they’ve been intimate, but she’s avoided every chance she could to fall asleep in his bed— at least with him still there beside her. He never has understood it, or some of the reasons she does the things that she does, but he tries not to push anything on her. He’s never asked her to leave, she always just has on her own. He’s never asked her to stay necessarily, either, but he’s sure it’s not that that’s kept her away.

He could be overthinking, but to be safe he sits up, blinking his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. The aching in his legs lets him know that tomorrow is going to be a long day, but he pushes on anyway and pushes to a stand, stretching his arms above his head a moment before grabbing at his pants discarded on the floor.

Eren gives one last look back at the sleeping form in his bed before slipping out of his bedroom. The hardwood of his apartment creaks beneath his gait as he trudges down the hall, a hand lifting to scrape through the hair that’s fallen around his face and back behind his neck. It was later than fuck and he definitely had way too much work to do for as little time as he has but he tries to shake the thought away when he reaches the kitchen, grabs a glass from the cabinet and flips on the faucet.

He walks and drinks at the same time, downing just about the whole glass by the time he reaches his bedroom. But when he gets to the doorway, he stops, and his eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness and what's before him.

Mikasa has since rolled over into his spot, one hand folded under his pillow and the other clasped above it, the light shining in through the slats of the blinds highlighting the planes of her face. His eyes trace the slope of her nose to the bow of her lips, watching the way her eyes seem to flicker beneath closed lashes. His gut twists slightly, his throat bobbing uncomfortably  against the thick lump that’s somehow formed in his throat. He doesn’t know why his hands feel numb now and his legs can’t seem to move, his eyes continuously fixated at the way that she looks in his bed.

 _Oh_ , he thinks,  _maybe that’s the guilt settling in._

Because as long as he’s known her and as much as they’ve been together, and as much as he might be struggling with what it all might mean, he’s never stopped to think of the possibility of what this might be doing to her, too.

* * *

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on this little plot bunny for some time (like I started probably a fewish months ago and didn't touch it again until like a week ago?) and only more recently got around to actually editing and finishing it.  
> I couldn't get this out of my head for the simple fact that I'm a slut for friends with benefits fics, and I couldn't not write Eremika. It started out as a small drabble, but I kind of lost control and veered it into another direction and now it's... a wild ride. I couldn't get the idea out of my head of Eren and Mikasa basically still refusing to admit the feelings they have for each other. Love that for them lol.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and I'll hopefully be able to post something again later. I've got some things planned (multi fic wise hopefully) for the future, and if you liked this I'd definitely stick around for some more like it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
